Desperate Measures
by Gia Rai
Summary: NCIS and SG1 collide when young Jon O'Neill ends up in Baal's clutches. Includes some SamJack and Tate, with lots of wonderful angst.
1. A Dead Navy Seal

_Greetings, All! This is both my first Stargate fic and my first NCIS fic. It's set at the end of Stargate Season 8, just after Jake Carter dies, and the end of NCIS Season 2, just after the plague. Kate is not dead in this, so it's happily AU. Feel free to drop me a review and let me know how you like it! _

_(Note: These characters do not belong to me. At all. I'm simply borrowing them until Jack O'Niell starts trying to sing the Simpson's theme and Carter bites my hand.)  
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_Enjoy! Gia  
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Tony DiNozzo popped his head over the flat-screen monitor, located his quarry, noted her feigned indifference to his nosiness, and then returned his eyes to the computer screen. Technically, he was finishing the long overdue and surprisingly boring report on the plague he'd contracted. In reality, however, he was enjoying the fact that he could once again non-covertly annoy Kate. He smirked. Yes, being back in the saddle was good. 

He glanced at McGee, and, confident the young probational geek remained engrossed in his technical technicalities, made to throw a wadded up piece of paper in Agent Todd's direction.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, DiNozzo. She's got some ammo of her own over there."

Damn! His hand froze in mid-air. Apparently McGee _was_ paying more attention than he appeared. Tony glanced at Kate, and noticed she had an evil grin on her face. Had his most trusted friends been conspiring against him whilst he lay on his sickbed?

He never got to ask, as Gibbs entered the room.

"Todd, McGee, grab your gear. We've got a dead Seal in Colorado, and we've got to be there in two hours."

"What about me, sir?" Tony asked, surprised to be left out.

Gibbs shot a somewhat calculating yet annoyed look in his direction. "DiNozzo will be coming a bit later with Abby and Ducky. _If_," he added, "he promises to sleep on the flight. He looks like hell."

Tony did his best to hide his frustration as Kate giggled and McGee smirked. "I do _not_ look like hell. I just feel like it."

* * *

"Gibbs! Come look at this." Kate carefully tiptoed around the brightly lit, taped-off crime scene, looking for clues as McGee took pictures of the footprints in the sand. Finally getting where she wanted to be, and noticing that her boss was near as well, she squatted and pointed at the scuffmarks in question, glad for the flood lights that had been erected around the schoolyard as night fell. 

"There were definitely more than just two people here," she started. Gibbs studied the dirt carefully without comment, so she went on. "Two larger, one smaller, and there was a struggle. Mostly on foot. That," she pointed to a nearby section of ground, "is a clean knee mark, I think."

There was silence for a moment, save for the chatter of the local cops and the snapping of McGee's camera. "Our guy was one of the big ones, by the look of it," Gibbs finally agreed. He stood. "This doesn't make sense."

"Why not?" Kate got up and followed him to the edge of the restricted area, taking a moment to pull her wind-bothered hair back into a ponytail.

"Just how many Navy Seals get axed on high school grounds? And, until Ducky can get here to inform me otherwise, I have to assume that Lieutenant Nick Morgan died of a broken neck. He's one big man, so one big man who dealt the blow."

* * *

"_Dr. Jackson, please report to General O'Neill's office immediately." _

Daniel sighed, shooting the PA speaker a frustrated glance. How was he ever going to get anything done if Jack kept bothering him? When would the man realize that frequent trips to the commissary for pie would not get his paperwork done? Nor would it truly help him forget that Jacob Carter was dead, which is what Daniel knew he was trying to do. Sam was doing the same thing, only with their findings from P4X-229.

Reluctantly placing his latest sketch back on the desk, he made his way to Jack's office. As he approached, he saw Sgt. Harriman leaving the area with a distinctly harassed and worried expression on his face. Curiosity piqued, Daniel knocked and opened Jack's door.

"Hey, Jack. What's up?"

"In. Sit down." Jack was on the phone, and was apparently quite peeved at the person on the other side.

"Well, I don't care _what_ you might have thought, Captain! You don't call in other agencies until you've been through us first! Didn't it even cross your mind that something abnormal in Colorado Springs _probably_ had something to do with the SGC? It's your _job_ to make sure these things don't happen….Right….Right….Well, get it right next time, Soldier, or you won't have a job." He grunted as he dropped the phone.

"Hey, Danny. You know, you would think that, knowing just how useless I am at bureaucracy, they would give me underlings smart enough to make up for it." He rubbed his hand through his hair and sighed. "Jon's gone missing, and a Navy Seal was murdered up at his high school."

Daniel blinked owlishly. "Jon? As in…you-Jon? Your clone?"

"That's the one! The 'me' with killer acne and brand-spankin'-new knees. Instead of immediately calling us about the dead sailor, though, Captain Jerk-off at the Pentagon called NCIS. They've already been on-site for an hour."

"Oh. That's bad. I assume you called me in to tell us to get over there?"

"I want you, Carter and Teal'c to run over there, flash them the President's credentials, and make sure they breathe a word of this to no-one. Hopefully, they haven't even put Jon in the picture yet."

Daniel took the envelope Jack held out to him. "Yeah, okay, we can do that."

"And then, you're in charge of figuring out where he is."

"Are you sure that's wise? I..I mean, he hasn't seen any of us for over a year now."

"Ah! Correction, Danny-boy. Little Jonathon O'Niell has not seen any of _you_ for the past year. I think it would do him good to have his butt saved from God-knows-who by his old friends, don't you agree?"

Daniel suddenly felt very guilty, and it must have shown. Jack dropped his joking demeanor.

"Sorry, Daniel. He understands why you guys wouldn't visit. It's a bit…weird…to think of him as _me_, when he looks so damn young and handsome. Still, from the evidence we have, he's been kidnapped, and he needs SG-1, the people he trusts, to get him back. If it were me, and it _is_ me," Jack added with a smirk, "I'd choose you three over some Navy goons any day."

Daniel grinned, relieved but still uncomfortable. "Any time, Jack, any time."

* * *

Two hours later, Kate and McGee had finished searching the immediate crime scene and had branched off with flashlights to search the bushes and trees surrounding the school. Ducky had arrived to deal with Lt. Morgan, towing along Abby (with her briefcase of equipment) and Tony (with his increasingly haggard-looking face). The Chief Medical Examiner agreed with Gibbs' theory on the cause of death, although he seemed somewhat reticent on exactly _how_ the man's neck was broken. 

After another few minutes of ground survey, Gibbs called them all back together, aware that the area needed to be clear before the sun rose. The team gathered around, save Ducky, who was still pouring over the body in the van they'd borrowed.

"Okay, we've got a Navy Seal dead, in civvies, in a Colorado Springs high school. From what we can tell, there were two other people involved – one large, one small. This occurred after school, around six, with no witnesses. I need questions, people."

"Why was he in Colorado Springs in the first place?" McGee asked. Gibbs nodded.

Kate took it one step further. "Why here, at a high school? Was there a child here he knew? A friend?"

"Hmmm," Abby added. "Was he the 'good' guy, or the 'bad' guy?" At Gibbs' look, she defended herself. "What? There were other people here! What if he was the attacker? Or maybe he was trying to protect or _save_ someone."

Tony rubbed his hands though his hair in thought. "Was he on a mission? Are we sure this wasn't government related?" He sounded as tired as he looked. After they got this mess cleared up, Gibbs was going to make sure he stayed in bed for another few days.

"No," he answered. "Not government related. His superiors checked out everything just before they called us. There were no mission reports or orders outstanding for Lieutenant Morgan."

"Or, perhaps they were simply well hidden!" Ducky's breathless voice rang out through the night sky as he made his way to the group. "I'm sorry I didn't find this before, Jethro, but he had it ensconced in the sole of his shoe." The man handed Gibbs a folded and somewhat damp piece of paper with a pair of tongs. Gibbs opened it with gloved hands, read it over, grunted, and took a deep breath.

"It looks like our sailor _did_ have orders, but they were signed 'Zehuti.' I want to know who this is."

"The Egyptian moon god." Everyone looked at Abby, so she repeated herself. "Zehuti was the god of the moon and the judge of the underworld. You know, deciding who went into which part of hell and all that jazz."

"O-kay," Gibbs answered. "I still want to know who this man or woman is, who _calls_ himself Zehuti. But right now, it's late, and we need to get this cleaned up before students get here in, oh, two hours."

"Actually," came a voice from the road, "we'll clean up."

Gibbs turned a surprised eye towards the man who was heading towards them in the twilight. He was flanked by two others– a very large black man with a black toque, and a tall, capable- though sad-looking blonde woman in fatigues. Suddenly wary, Gibbs felt his muscles loosen up for an altercation. Even without his companions, the man in front of him could probably cause some damage if he wanted to.

"My name is Dr. Jackson." The man stuck out his hand to shake. Apparently, causing damage wasn't on his mind this morning. Gibbs silently returned the man's grip without turning his eyes away.

"Yes, um," Dr. Jackson continued, "this is Colonel Carter and Murray. We'll be relieving you of this case. Per President Hayes' order, it has become classified. We'll need you to hand over all evidence before you leave."

"President Hayes?" Apparently, Kate couldn't help herself. Gibbs sighed.

"Yes, the President has requested that the investigation be turned over to us," Colonel Carter repeated as she handed an envelope to Gibbs.

"_The_ Colonel Samantha Carter?" Abby squeaked. She elbowed McGee sharply in the ribs before continuing. "McGee! This is the woman I was telling you about. Who wrote all that hinky stuff on space-time physics and quantum mechanics!" Gibbs raised his eyebrows at Abby, but she continued on anyway. "Abby Sciuto, Forensic Specialist with the NCIS. I'm absolutely _ecstatic_ to be meeting you."

Colonel Carter looked surprised but modestly pleased as she shook Abby's hand. This, of course, did nothing to stop Abby's next question.

"Why are you here, working on a murder case? Ooh! Was the late Lieutenant the victim of an unfortunate rift in the space-time continuum?"

"Abbs!" Gibbs barked, just as Murray made his presence known.

"I believe DanielJackson and ColonelCarter have already expressed that this case is now classified, AbbySciutoForensicSpecialist."

It was Kate's turn to squeak, as she was standing closest to the stoic giant. He somehow seemed bigger when one became aware of his booming voice. Gibbs saw Tony unconsciously move between him and Agent Todd. Murray noticed this slight movement as well and raised his right eyebrow in a rather impressive way.

Gibbs decided that enough was enough. Setting his jaw, he skimmed through the envelope's contents. Everything looked legit.

"Alright. They've got jurisdiction here. Ducky, transfer the body and all related materials to their vehicle. Abby and DiNozzo, you help him. McGee, get them the film you took from earlier. Kate, you're with me." Gibbs pulled both her and Dr. Jackson aside, debriefing him on their findings so far.

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_Well? What do you think? Free coffee (of the virtual variety) for those who review. I'm all about feedback. Cheers! Gia_  



	2. Newton

_Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I hope this remains enjoyable for all! - Gia_

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"Oh, fer cryin' out loud!"

Jonathan O'Neill scowled as his books fell from their precarious position in their locker to land on his booted feet. The fragile balance between potential and kinetic energy had been upset once again, and has gone up must come down in the most painful way possible. Damn Newton.

Take his after-school meeting with Sergeant Namblec, for example. Jon thought he had been performing smashingly as a seventeen-year-old highschooler and JROTC cadet. He kept his grades up for prides' sake, and yet was still able to pull off the immature, sarcastic, angst-ridden teenager bit. Everything anyone could ask for from a creaky old ex-black-ops-Colonel-turned-adolescent. Biting back a growl, he bent down to pick up the astrophysics book that had scraped its edge along his shin.

Sergeant Numbskull had finally had enough of Jon's "juvenile hot-headedness and caustic self-importance." If he had been himself – i.e. about thirty years older – he would have answered the accusation with one of the exact witticisms Namblec seemed to despise. As it was, however, he had respectfully stood at full attention while the Air Force officer reamed him out, taking consolation in the fact that he was a better commanding officer than this puffed-up, jaded, wanna-be flyboy could ever be. If the man had been doing his job, he would be _encouraging_ the loyalty the other cadets seemed to show Jon – the respect he had _earned_ in the last year-and-a-half – instead of jealously trying to subdue his natural ability for leadership.

Still sporting a bad mood, a smarting shin and a frustrated ego, Jon started across the empty schoolyard in the direction of his apartment. It was already half-past five, and he had promised Joan Marie he would be at her house by six to help her with her calculus homework. He snorted. _Him._ Tutoring other students in math and science, as if he _knew_ something about math and science. Carter would be bursting her buttons in pride. Or shock.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he realized he was not alone. He couldn't see anyone in the fading sunlight, but he was certain beyond friggin' doubt that there was someone hiding in the bushes to his right. He kept walking, however, not keen on showing his cards until he could get farther into the clearing.

He wasn't given a choice.

With speed that belied his size, BushMan silently rose from the brush and rushed him. Not speaking, Jon spun to meet his attacker, surprised but glad that he did not seem to have a weapon. Could it be that this civvies-clad pain-in-the-_mikta_ was under orders to deliver him in one piece? Well, if so, Jonathan O'Neill could not promise the same care. Kidnapping by an unknown evil bastard was so not his idea of a good time.

Before BushMan could touch him, Jon dropped the heavy bookbag from his shoulder and shoved it at his attacker. This bought him about half a second; BushMan was big, burly and determined. Luckily, Jon had experience dealing with his type. Without thinking, he reverted to his black-ops self, and his eyes hooded over.

The following moments were a blur. One second BushMan had his left arm in a painful lock, and the next Jon miraculously had his massive head in his hands, twisting for all he was worth. How he got in that position, he didn't care. All that mattered at the moment was that he remained free. While Jon panted, BushMan's neck snapped again and again in a slow, grating death knell. When he realized his attacker was no longer breathing, Jon dropped him on the ground.

Momentarily stunned, he dropped to his knee next to the body. Still breathing heavily, he drew his hands over BushMan's open, lifeless eyes and shut them. He'd just killed a man. In cold blood.

He'd hoped he wouldn't ever have to do that again for a long time. Especially not without knowing why.

He wanted to have a moment to catch his breath and reconcile with reality, but he wasn't given the chance. Before he could do anything about it, a strong hand had taken hold of his shirt collar and pulled him backward, away from BushMan's body. A bright light bewildered him, and then his heart dropped as he heard the familiar swish of Goa'uld ring devices.

Fighting to regain his footing, he was greeted with golden, gaudy walls and the sound of a zat gun fired…twice. Hearing a thump behind him, he whirled to see a dark-haired man lying motionless on the floor.

Then, he heard an amused voice that turned his blood to ice.

"Tau'ri soldiers are a foolish waste, aren't they O'Neill? I will have to disabuse Zehuti of his reliance upon them."

It was that smug bastard Baal.

* * *

"Watcha doin', Carter?" 

"Oh, hey, sir. I didn't hear you come in." Sam leaned back from the desk as General O'Neill pulled up the stool across from her with an amused smile on his face and a knowing gleam in his eye. She sighed. This was his "let's-have-a-serious-conversation-while-pretending-to-joke" look. As opposed to the "let's-bother-Carter-for-fun" cocky strut that he usually sported.

"Thinkin' about where our wayward son might be?"

Sam smiled despite her somber mood. Just like the General to make light of the situation. "Yes, sir. Daniel's going over the evidence from the scene and I'm trying to piece together events from Jon's day. Did you know he's in JROTC?"

"Ah, yeah. I did, actually. Said he needed to be taking _some_ kind of orders, even if they were fake ones. I don't understand that myself. Doesn't really like his CO, though."

"Yeah, from talking to Sergeant Namblec, I'm taking it the feeling's mutual. In fact, he'd held him after their afternoon training session yesterday for a disciplinary 'talk.'"

"I don't think that's related. Namblec might be a pain in the rear, but half the time he's full of..." Sam giggled despite herself, and he didn't finish. Instead, he shot her a crooked grin.

"No giggling, Colonel! I wasn't even mixing my metaphors!"

Sam stopped snickering immediately and noticed that she was feeling slightly better now that he was here. Still, this situation, coupled with her father's recent death and her split with Pete, was sending her down Miserable Lane. Well, it was now or never.

"Sir, I'd like to apologize."

"For what, Carter? Rigged my PA microphone to make me sound like Bart again?"

"No, sir, that was Siler. I…" she looked at him, and took a deep breath. "I really shouldn't be apologizing to you. I should be apologizing to Jon. But since he's not here, and since he's technically you…I thought I should say I'm sorry. For neglecting him."

The General wasn't saying anything. He simply looked at her, but his grin had slipped a little from his face. So, Sam continued.

"It's just that it was awkward. I know you. I work with you. And he's…you, but not. I didn't know how to relate to him, because I couldn't treat him like he was you. And that would have been…awkward."

Her CO continued to quietly gaze at her, and it threw her off. Was he upset? What did he want to hear?

"I'm sorry if my avoidance of him offended you, sir."

Finally, the General started talking, albeit quietly. "Carter, Jon doesn't blame you for avoiding him, and neither do I. He told me that he's very aware that his existence makes you uncomfortable, and suggested that it would be better for everyone if he had a separate life. He kept in touch with me, well, because we happen to know each other extremely well. And we get a kick out of trying to outwit each other."

"Yes, sir. But Daniel, Teal'c and I should have at least made an effort, sir."

"Maybe, maybe not. Jon's already forgiven you, anyway. He's very gracious." He gave her a smug grin. "He got that from me."

Sam laughed. "Sure, sir." She sighed. "I hope he's okay."

"Me too," the General answered, looking away. "Me too." He picked up a screwdriver from her table and began fiddling with it. "How about you, Carter. How are you doing?"

"What do you mean, sir? I'm doing fine."

"You're about as fine as my grandma when she was ninty-three." He put the tool back where he had found it. "Dad just died. How are you doing?"

Sam sighed again. It wouldn't have been her choice to talk about this right now, but this was General O'Neill, and he very rarely swung towards the deep end. Might as well share.

"Well, I miss him. I've had to make some decisions that I wish he was here for."

The General looked at her for a moment. "What decisions?" His voice was low, and she could tell he was trying to pry gently because he didn't want to upset her.

"Well…" Sam bit her lip. "I called it off with Pete." She held her breath and willed herself not to give in to the sick feeling that settled in her gut. Why the heck was she so upset?

Again, he paused before saying anything, but then seemed to make a decision and put his hand through his grey hair. "Geez, Carter. I'm sorry. When? Why?"

Sam couldn't help but frown; talking about these events with General O'Neill made them seem more real than they had when she'd confided in Daniel. She wanted to cry, which was so very unlike her. And more than anything, she couldn't let herself break down in front of the General.

"Last week. I met him at our…house…and told him I couldn't do it. Dad had said he wanted me to be happy, and I knew I wasn't, and it wasn't fair to Pete."

Something in her voice much have touched a nerve in O'Neill, because he stood, lifted her from her seat and pulled her into a hug. In such close proximity, and overwhelmed by the smell of his aftershave, a few tears _did_ escape her eyes.

"You're right, Carter. You were doing both of you a favor. I'm just so sorry it had to hurt so much."

"Yeah," Sam sniffed, still fighting the urge to sob. "Everything just seems to hurt right now."

"Yeah," he answered. They just hugged for another short while, before the General pulled away. "Let's go to dinner, Colonel, once we get Jon back."

"Sir?" Sam looked warily at him while she wiped her eyes. He was asking her to dinner? He couldn't do that.

"Carter?"

"Dinner, sir?"

"Yes, Carter. We both miss Dad. I'm sure that warrants a little bit of comfort, even if it's only to be had at O'Malley's."

"I thought we weren't allowed there anymore, sir."

"Well, they decided that since I was promoted to General, they'd let me back in. I knew this job had to come with perks."

"Not just free coffee and a personal assistant, sir?"

"Nah. I had you and Daniel before I moved up. In a way, it was a downgrade."

"Walter's not that bad, sir."

"No, he's not. In fact, he's amazingly good at getting me to do all that pesky paperwork. He's just not you."

Sam blinked at him as he resumed his cocky grin and scooted out the door.

* * *

Tony's snoring in the back of the sedan was driving her crazy. For the first hour, she'd found it cute, the way his dark hair stuck up in odd places and his face crinkled when he snorted. For the second, it was tolerable. Past three hours in stop-and-go traffic, and she was ready to trade his Italian ass in for the Labrador in the blue truck next to them. 

Scratch that. The Lab would be slobbering all over her, which, luckily for her, Tony had never actually stooped to doing. Though it would be interesting if he tried.

Kate took a drink of her now-cold Starbucks and turned to Gibbs, who was silently weaving in and out of the traffic. He seemed completely unbothered by the fact that a normally two-hour trip from the airport to their office had turned into a four-hour detour of the greater Tallahassee area. Road work. They should have flown directly to Panama City.

"So, Gibbs," she started. "You seemed very accepting of Dr. Jackson's explanation."

Her boss grinned a bit and drove around an old convertible that was moving too slow in the fast lane. "Well, Kate. Orders are orders, and those _were_ orders from the President of the United States." At Kate's disbelieving look, he went on. "And the President is our boss."

"Yes, but you didn't even fight it. That's not like you."

Gibbs smirked at her. "Don't worry Agent Todd. Fornell handed this to me, so I won't drop it completely until he gives me some satisfactory answers."

* * *

Jon opened his eyes and groaned. "Not again…" 

He was in the place of nightmares, the home of never-ending death, the lair of one of the biggest egos in the universe. Familiar sheer walls, slightly luminescent, rose far above him as he picked himself off of the floor. He was aware of guards standing perpendicular to the ceiling, and reminded himself that Baal utilized something only Carter could understand to change the direction of gravity. What he was using as the floor was actually the wall. The hole in the roof was actually the opening to the corridor.

As if to prove this point, the gravity well shifted, and Jon found himself falling into the wall with a grunt. He gathered his wits just as two Jaffa rushed in to grab him, and, thrusting his foot into the knee of the closest, tumbled him into the second. Rising again, he made to dash for the door, but stopped short at the sound of a zat gun opening.

"Aw c'mon guys!" he cajoled as he raised his hands in surrender. "You didn't expect me to come without a fight, now, did'ja?" The Jaffa who had filled the entryway to his cell merely stared at him as his original wardens grabbed him firmly by the arms and thrust him into the hallway. Figuring there was no point wasting energy with fifteen snake incubators surrounding him, he followed without further struggle.

When he reached their destination, he almost wished he'd forced the Jaffa to kill him.

"Jack O'Neill. A pleasure to have you aboard. Please," Baal gestured towards a chair located across the crafted table from him, "sit."

Jon glared at the Goa'uld as his Jaffa released him and moved to guard the door. With everything within him, he ignored the gravity web on the adjacent wall. "What's the matter, Baal? Feeling a bit miffed that GQ cancelled your subscription after Anubis gave…y'all," he waved his hand around the room to indicate the Goa'uld in general, "a bad name? Well, I'm not mailing you mine. Postage is a bit out of this world."

Baal smirked peaked his hands against the table. "Ah, you _are_ so much like him. I'll admit," he stood to walk up to Jon with a wide smile, "I found the original O'Neill humorous. You on the other hand," he ran a finger across Jon's cheek, causing the teenager to tense and tighten his jaw, "Breaking Jack O'Neill the _boy_ will be so much more enjoyable."

"You aren't going to break me, Baal," Jon fumed through gritted teeth.

"Yes," Baal walked away from him and picked up a device that Jon knew only too well, "I will."

Jon bit back a yelp as the gravity web drew him across the room and held him fast. He struggled, but there was nothing he could do, and he knew it. He swallowed the terror he felt at reliving the torture he'd last received at Baal's hands, knowing there was no Daniel Ascended, no SG-1 to rescue him.

"What do you want from me, you larval ego-maniac?" Jon did his best to both sound and look cocky, but had to admit he probably came across as quite pathetic.

"I've learned, O'Neill, that you have obtained the knowledge of the Ancients." Baal set down the gravity device and pick up a bowl containing…worm things. "I want it."

"Well I don't have it. The Asgard removed it." He wriggled nervously, unfortunately very aware that "I don't know" was never a valid answer with Baal.

"No. They simply re-compressed it. I want _you_," Baal picked up a black and crusty looking invertebrate with a pair of tongs and released it so that it flew through the air towards Jon, "to remember it."

Damn Newton.

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_So? What did you think? Please review! I live off that stuff. Feel free to give criticism or comment on comments or tell me you like my hair (which you've never seen). It's all good. _

_Oh, and I apologize for the "No giggling" bit. That has to be the most overused line in Stargate fanfic-dom! I really just couldn't help myself..._

_ Also, I'm working for the next few days, but will try to get in another chapter before I fly home on Thursday. Wish me luck and chocolate!  
_


	3. Zehuti and Bunnies

_Hi, everyone! Wow! This turned into a REALLY long chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! _

_Oh, yes. I know that some of you are very unfamiliar with NCIS, so I tried to be more detailed than normal on those characters. For your information, two weeks before these events, Tony DiNozzo almost died from an engineered strain of the bubonic plague. This is why he looks so terribly haggard. Normally, he's the hottest guy on CBS._

_There is also some MAJOR tension…of the sexual variety…between Agents Kate Todd and Tony DiNozzo. FYI._

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The young, slightly chubby Tim McGee, MIT computer wiz and relative NCIS newbie, was involved in a complex and delicate experiment, one that required the utmost concentration and stealth. Though he seemingly remained engrossed in his new issue of _Wired_, the makeshift tally nestled in his computer desktop indicated that his attention was truly elsewhere. Over the past hour, as inky night had fallen heavily in Panama City, he had, unbeknownst to his subjects, diligently kept watch over their behavior. It looked like his hard work was not in any sense fruitless.

It was Abby who had put him up to it. Tim marveled at the Goth's conspiracy-theory talents, the way she could put two and two together to come up with something crazy, like twenty-seven. This time, against the odds, she might even possibly be spot on.

In the last fifty-nine minutes, Tony had glanced at Kate a total of forty-two times. She, on the other hand, had snuck a peak at him thirty-nine times. And neither had noticed the other one looking.

Smirking, he started to type up a quick report for Ms. Sciuto.

"DiNozzo!" Tim jerked and quickly hit the 'minimize' button on his computer screen as Gibbs stormed into the room.

"It's midnight. I thought I told you to get some sleep."

"It's a bit hard to sleep when I can't go home, Gibbs." Tony snuck another glance towards Kate as he tried to sit straighter in his chair. _Forty-three!_ Tim noted, mentally.

"You're two weeks off your deathbed, Tony. So, I don't care how you do it, but you'd better be sleeping within five minutes. Snoring and drooling."

As Tony moodily stood up, grabbed his coat, and walked towards the stairs to Abby's lab, Tim spoke up. "Why are we still here, Boss?"

Gibbs turned to him with a weary look in his eye. "Because," he started, glancing briefly at Tim's magazine…before Tim hastily pulled it off the desk and stuffed it in his top drawer, "F.B.I. Agent Fornell agreed to meet me here about the Colorado Springs case, and until I get the word from him that this is completely closed, I want my team ready to move on it."

"But I thought the President shut us out."

"Yes, that's why I'm assuming, until I hear from T.C., that our plans could change drastically at any time. If it involves the White House, it's hyper sensitive."

Tim heard Kate sigh as Gibbs left the room. Sitting and pulling up his desktop again, he updated the Todd-DiNozzo tally and hustled his report down to Abby via email.

* * *

"Jack!" Daniel ran down the greenish-grey corridor, mostly oblivious to the airmen and marines diving out of his way. "Jack! Jack!" He shoved open the door to the commissary and ran head-on into the person directly on the other side. 

Brigadier General Jack O'Neill stood calmly as his tray was upended onto his BDU jacket, smearing mashed potatoes, corn and something resembling meatloaf all over the front. "Daniel! I was gonna eat that!"

Daniel didn't even pay attention as several surrounding officers stood in their attempt to clean off their commanding officer. Jack waved them away impatiently.

"We've found something, and it's a problem. A _big_ problem, Jack. Come on. Sam and Teal'c are in the conference room." Without waiting for an answer, the archaeologist turned and ran back the way he came.

Dead-pan, Jack set down his tray, took off his soiled jacket, handed it to the nearest colonel, shook the gravy off his boots, and followed Daniel.

Once behind the closed doors of the briefing room, Jack dropped his placid demeanor and let into the archaeologist. "What was that all about, Daniel? This is a military base, not a football field. If you needed to talk to me, you could have paged me."

"There was not sufficient time, O'Neill, to allow you to reply to such a summons." Jack turned to look at Teal'c, who was standing by the side of the table, his shoulders and jaw unnaturally tense. Even for Teal'c.

Come to think of it, Carter looked a bit frazzled, too.

Jack looked from the fidgeting Colonel, back to Teal'c, and then to Daniel, who was busily spreading papers across the table.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry Jack. This is just a really…_big_ problem."

"You _did_ mention that back at the ten yard line, Danny. Care to share?"

"Sir," Carter cut in. "We've got a lead on Jon's kidnapper, and it's not NID like we first thought."

Jack looked at her carefully, refusing to give into feelings of relief. If it wasn't NID, they weren't dealing with fanatics. On the other hand, Jon's fate could now be something much more sinister. "Then who ordered in the Seals?"

Daniel finally stopped shuffling the paperwork and looked up. "It's a Goa'uld, Jack. 'Zehuti' is a Goa'uld, and he's FBI."

* * *

"Jethro! Good to see you!" 

"I'd say the same, T.C., but I'm a little peeved at you right now." Gibbs narrowed his eyes at Agent Fornell, lack of sleep evident in his pained look. Even in the dim lighting of the NCIS control room, it was easy to see that he was irked.

"Would that be why you asked me to come in at four in the morning?"

"Actually," Gibbs answered, walking down the steps, "I phoned you at ten. Usually, it doesn't take six hours to travel across town to the office."

"Yes, well, the Missus complained and I had to wait until she fell asleep to sneak out," smirked the older, beady-eyed and balding man.

"I would have thought she'd jump at the chance to kick you out of bed."

"Funny, Gibbs, funny. What's the urgent issue?"

Never one to sidestep, Gibbs walked up to the front wall of the room and eyed the glowing monitors that hung there. "Why did you send my team on the Colorado Springs case?"

T.C. looked at him for a moment, and then settled for studying the same image Gibbs had opted for: a lit map marking United States military bases. "Because I wanted it solved. What did you find?"

It was Gibbs' turn to study his companion. "Nothing. The President ordered it classified and gave the case to another team." He watched T.C. for any sort of reaction, but got nothing, save a slight hesitation.

"Which other team?"

"Air Force. Cheyenne Mountain Complex. A man named Dr. Daniel Jackson took charge. Are you saying you didn't know the President stepped in?"

Fornell was silent a little longer, and Gibbs could almost see him looking for a suitable answer. The NCIS agent began to feel uneasy. He had thought the T.C. had merely handed them the investigation before realizing that the CIA or military had other plans, but now he wasn't so sure. If that had been the case, his friend would have already known about the swap and Gibbs would have received an apology by now.

"What I'm about to tell you, Jethro, is classified. No spreading this around, okay?"

Gibbs simply studied him with a serious expression.

"I didn't tell you before I sent you, because we needed this to be believable. Dr. Jackson and his team are under investigation by the FBI for treason. We believe they have been working with the IND, passing secrets and protecting their American agents. We set a trap for them in Colorado Springs, and they took it by getting involved in Lieutenant Morgan's murder investigation. Their orders from the President were meant to help incriminate them, Jethro."

Gibbs' jaw had been slowly turning to stone during Fornell's explanation. "Let me get this straight. You sent me and my team into an operation – which, by the way, probably involved international insurgents – without informing us of the complete situation? You've got a lot of balls doing something that stupid, Fornell."

"I know, Jethro, and I'm sorry, but there was no other way. If they attempted to take the case from you, we would know without doubt that they were working for outside pay. Their MO rarely includes violence, so you were in no danger."

"What about this 'Jonathan O'Neill' kid? Was that staged, too? Lieutenant Morgan's death certainly wasn't fake."

The FBI Agent gave him a surprised look. "How did you know about O'Neill?"

Gibbs scowled. "We found some instructions on Morgan's body by a bloke named 'Zehuti.' They were to apprehend a seventeen-year-old Jonathan O'Neill after school that day."

Once again, Fornell paused and sighed. He'd begun to look rather weary. "No. We don't know who took the boy, or why. We don't even know why a Navy Seal was involved. All we've pieced together at this point is that O'Neill had ties to the IND, and that Dr. Jackson's group is now working out of government control to find him. We've got an intrigue on our hands."

Gibbs looked back to the map, his eyes lingering on the dot meant to indicate the Colorado Springs base. This wasn't adding up. There were too many unknowns, and it was unlike Fornell to operate in such backward, twisted logic.

"This is bull, T.C. Next time you send my team into an investigation, I want _all_ the facts. They're a smart group, and they can handle anything, including renegades."

Agent Fornell threw him a hard look. "I did what needed to be done, Jethro. Now it _is_ done, and we have what we need to bring the group to justice. You've done your part, now drop it."

"Drop it," Gibbs repeated with a touch of distaste on his tongue.

"Yes, drop it. Leave it alone and let the FBI finish the job."

For a few moments, Gibbs merely stared at him with a hard look on his face. Then, without saying a word, he turned and strode quickly up the stairs and out of the room.

* * *

As soon as Gibbs slammed the door shut behind him, Zehuti allowed his eyes to flash white in frustration. The SGC was not supposed to find out about O'Neill's disappearance, nor about Lieutenant Morgan's death. Though he knew the NCIS agent would do anything but leave the situation alone, especially after such a pitifully thrown-together explanation, Gibbs was now the least of his worries. 

He was going to have to do something about SG-1 before Baal discovered his mistake.

* * *

Abby's straight black hair, pulled up into matching high pig-tails, bounced back and forth happily as she hummed "Zippity Doo Da" and put the final touches on her computer simulation of a white rabbit exploding after it swallowed a miniature C4 bomb. She'd read McGee's unofficial report after sending Tony to sleep on the floor behind her refrigerator, and was _extremely_ optimistic that Operation ToNozzo (shortened from Todd-DiNozzo 'cause it sounded niftier) would soon yield über-amorous results. 

In the meantime, however, she was going to both gross out poor Timmy and invoke major coworker jealousy with her absolutely phenomenal animation skills. Cute bunnies of the world, beware!

Hearing footsteps banging up the nearest stairwell, her eyes sparkled in their usual high-on-Caff-Pow way as Gibbs strode into her lab. "Hi, Gibbs! What's up?"

"Abby," he nodded. "Where's DiNozzo?"

"Oh, he's sleeping on Meow in the corner over there." Abby had given him her large, stuffed panther to use as a pillow.

"DiNozzo! Wake up!" Smirking down his sharp nose as Tony jumped and banged his head on the refrigerator, Gibbs moved so he was standing next to Abby. "Nice splatter effect, Abbs."

"Thanks, Gibbs!" Abby answered, shooting him a bright smile. It was always nice when talent was appreciated.

"Geez, Boss! Couldn't you have slightly _nudged_ me or something?" Having slept only four hours, and still recovering from his bout of plague, he looked drunk as he staggered to his feet and rubbed his face with his hands.

"And where's the fun in that, DiNozzo? C'mon. Let's go get some coffee."

Tony glared at Gibbs through dark, shadowed eyes. "You woke me up to get coffee."

"Yeah. My treat. Kate's coming, too."

That seemed to give Abby's Italian metrosexual agent-buddy pause! "Okay. I'm in."

Abby smiled in a _very_ evil way. _Operation ToDozzo, commen…_

Her thoughts were interrupted brutally when Gibbs shoved a piece of notebook paper under her hand. Looking quickly in his direction, she caught a meaningful and serious stare; he very clearly wanted her to take part in a highly clandestine maneuver. Biding her time until he and Tony had descended the stairs, she emailed her Bursting Bunny to a very unprepared Timothy McGee.

Retreating into the nearest broom closet (a.k.a. - the closest un-monitored area), she grinned wickedly. Secret missions were the coolest thing in the _world!_

_

* * *

_

"Walter!" Jack barked. Sergeant Harriman cringed as his superior officer burst into the control room. The General had just sent SG-1, with a contingent of Marines and a large amount of firepower, to investigate and curtail the newest Goa'uld Floridian invasion. Everyone knew that Jack O'Neill turned into the Devil himself when his old team faced the bad guys alone. Or, rather, without him.

Well, Walter mused, he didn't technically turn into the _Devil_. He turned into the Devil's wittiest enemy. Or pie's wittiest enemy…

Dropping this line of thought for more pressing matters he answered the general. "Yes, sir?"

"Have all available satellites scan for Goa'uld vessels."

"But, sir, they do that routinely. If they'd found something…"

"If they'd found something, Walter, I wouldn't be asking you to do this now. I don't want to take any chances. We've got a Goa'uld on Earth, and if he's got some way off it, or some buddy up there waiting for him, we need to know _now._ Not after he gets away."

"Yessir!" Walter snapped, already dialing the phone to NASA.

* * *

"E-Q-U-I-D-S. There. Equids." 

"That's not even a word, Todd."

"Yes, Gibbs, it _is_. Mammals of the equine variety. Sixteen points, and I'm on a Triple Word square, so that's…forty-eight." She did some more addition and scribbled down her new score on the designated pad.

Kate grinned as Gibbs picked up his coffee and glared down at the Scrabble board sitting nicely in the center of Tony's oak coffee table. She had to admit, admiring DiNozzo's apartment yet again, that the man had more taste than tact. Oak furniture met sage green walls and khaki upholstery in a pleasant, _clean_ way. Well, she figured his "lady friends" had to have _some_ reason to dote on him like they did. Apparently, designer apartments were their weak spots.

Gibbs had all but dragged both her and Tony from the office in search of "coffee." Once in his car, however, he explained what they were _really_ doing. They were going to Tony's apartment.

His meeting with Fornell had raised more questions than it had answered, and he detailed what the man had explained to him. In short, the FBI Agent had left him feeling uneasy and distrustful. So, he had given Abby a handwritten note instructing her and McGee to look up all the information they could find on Daniel Jackson, Colonel Carter, and…Murray…. He'd also asked them to look into Jon O'Neill's background and disappearance, as well as requesting that they pinpoint exactly _who_ this Zehuti was, if possible.

It was a tall order, but it could only be done by hackers experienced with government technology. Officially, the two of them were "testing" the system. The other three agents would only be in the way, causing others to wonder what they were up to. Hence, they left the building for "coffee." This way, Tony could get some decent rest, and Abby and McGee would show up here with their results when they were done.

However, it had been three hours. Kate was beginning to wonder if McGee had finally lured Abbs into that broom closet….

The doorbell rang just as Gibbs triumphantly said "C-I-A," and laid the letters on the board.

"No acronyms, Boss," Tony slurred, rushing out of his room to get the door.

Clad only in his boxers.

…

His pink bunny boxers.

So much for taste.

Instead of helping the poor man out, however, Gibbs and Kate grinned silently as he pulled the front door open wide.

"Oh, Tony!" they heard Abby cry. "I didn't know you had a _thing_ for _rabbits_!"

McGee followed with an impressively dealt dead-pan. "Did you know it takes less than an eighth of a teaspoon of C4 to blow up a rabbit?"

Dead silence followed while Tony closed his eyes and wished for the world to disappear. Without saying a word, and with his jaw set like a vice, he turned around, walked back into his room, and shut his door quietly.

As soon as he did, the remaining four agents broke out into wide smiles.

"_That's_ blackmail material!" McGee commented happily.

Kate looked like Christmas had just come twice. "Tony DiNozzo, humiliated in bunny boxers. That moment is going to stay in my mind forever."

Gibbs saw Abby's and McGee's smiles widen even further, but only allowed himself a smirk. He might be a hardass, but he wasn't dumb – he knew what they were thinking.

"What do you have for us, guys?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.

McGee looked at Abby, who looked right back at him. They seemed to remember abruptly why there were here, and moved to the couch, unloading their mass of equipment from their shoulders.

"Boss, you won't believe this," McGee started.

"No, he _will_ believe this! He set this up, remember! This is so _cool, _Gibbs!"

"Abbs!"

"Sorry, Gibbs. But, well, we'll tell you everything one piece at a time. Take it away, McGee!"

"Jonathan O'Neill is a ward of the Air Force. There's very limited information on his background, but nothing ties him to the IRA. Although, he has the exact same name as a General stationed at the nearest base."

"Yeah, and in a way, that supports Fornell's story," Abby continued. "Jackson, Carter, and their little friend Murray could have been falsifying his records to set him up as a mole in the U.S. _Except_," she smile at McGee, "Timmy here made the find of the _millennium._ Dr. Daniel and Colonel Sam are part of a very secret, very _specialized_ government organization that deals with…get this…" she paused for dramatic effect and gestured towards her compatriot.

"Deep Space Radio Telemetry. Not something to get worried about, Boss, except that _their_ work eats up ten times the budget any normal government science base would require, and uses about twenty times the electrical energy."

Switch to Abby. "And about every two months or so, the Cheyenne Mountain Complex has an emergency that requires half of Colorado Springs to either evacuate or go under quarentine. It's _very_ X-Files…"

Switch to McGee. "She means it's strange, Boss."

Gibbs looked at them both carefully. "So, you're saying that Jackson's team, and probably this Jon kid as well, _are _involved in something screwy, but nothing that has to do with the Provisional IRA?"

"Right!" they both answered at the same time, with identical smiles on their face, but Abby with more enthusiasm.

"What did you find on 'Zehuti,' then?"

At this, Abby started to literally bounce up and down, and McGee clasped his hands in his lap so tightly they turned white.

"You wouldn't _believe _this, Gibbs!" Abby started. "Zehuti is…" she sang a little fanfare for suspense, "FBI Agent T.C. Fornell!"

"DiNozzo! Get your pink ass out here!" Gibbs had already grabbed his jacket and stuffed his gun into its holster. "We're going rabbit hunting."

* * *

A voice distorted by static sounded in the black van. "We've got activity, Colonel. Tan sedan, front side of the house. Florida plates. 456 MK3." 

Sam adjusted her video surveillance system so they could see the car, and gasped. "Oh, _criminy_, Daniel! It's Gibbs!"

Daniel hurried to peer over her shoulder at the monitor and grasped her arm. "What are they doing at Fornell's house? Do you think they know? Do you think they saw us?"

"Based upon our last meeting with these people, DanielJackson, I do not believe they would willingly work with a Goa'uld. And judging by their continued persistence in approaching Zehuti's place of residence, they have not ascertained our presence."

"No, Teal'c's right." Sam sighed worriedly. "But they just walked into the snake pit and made our job that much harder."

* * *

Gibbs bit the inside of his lip as he knocked on T.C. Fornell's front door. He was pissed beyond belief, and truly hoped the man's wife was not here when they confronted him. He hated it when distressed spouses got involved. 

He was also feeling distinctly watched. Which was why he left McGee and Abby in the car as backup.

"Hello? Jethro! Fancy seeing you again, this morning." Fornell sent an earnest look past the NCIS agent. "And…your team!"

"May we come in, Agent Fornell?" Gibbs asked in a clipped voice.

Looking a bit confused, but nodding nonetheless, Fornell moved to lead them into the living room. It was old-fashioned and dark, but the lace window coverings indicated a woman's touch. Gibbs grimaced in relief at Mrs. Fornell's absence, and when he was confident that Kate and Tony were in position, he cut to the chase.

"You wanna tell us what's going on, T.C.?"

To his credit, Agent Fornell looked duly surprised. "What do you mean, Jethro?"

"You know what I mean, Fornell. Or should I say _Zehuti?_"

In the following two seconds of silence, Gibb's long-time-friend-turned-suspect dropped his bewildered mask and donned a smirk. Tony and Kate placed their palms on the butts of their pistols.

No one was ready for what happened next.

T.C. Fornell's eyes glowed white, and he began to talk in eerie dual tones.

"_You foolish Tau'ri! Your weapons are no match for my powers! Bow to a god!"_

All three NCIS agents, eyes wide and on alert, pulled out their guns and pointed them at the suspect. Out of all the scenarios that could have taken place, this had to take the cake. What do you do with a scene from _The Exorcist_?

"What are you talking about, Fornell!" Gibbs countered. "We've got superior manpower. Put your hands behind your head!"

Instead of following Gibbs' orders, however, Fornell reached behind his be-planted end table and grabbed a gun…looking…thing.

Well, Gibbs thought, he did warn him. Aiming to hit his arm, he shot at Fornell just as the man brought up his weapon. Apparently, he wasn't fast enough.

"Kate!" he heard Tony yell as a bluish-white bolt of energy shot from Fornell's weapon and caught her in the chest. At the same time, the front door burst open in a flurry of activity, drawing Fornell's attention from the NCIS agents to the Marines flooding into the house.

"Hold your fire, Zehuti! We have you surrounded!" an angry Colonel Carter's voice called out.

Gibbs turned to find her, his gun still at the ready, registering that, though DiNozzo had instinctively knelt next to Kate, he was thankfully keeping a desperate aim on Fornell.

"_I am not cowed by your puny weapons, Samantha Carter. I am a GOD! Kneel before me!"_

Distantly, Gibbs wondered why Fornell seemed unaffected by the gaping hole his pistol had put in his arm. "Drop your weapon, Fornell!" he called out, making the split-second decision that Carter was on his side. At least until the situation had been diffused.

"You must drop your weapon, Zehuti, or you will die." Speaking with bone-grating finality, Murray was holding a long staff-looking…weapon?...on the other side of the room. Gibbs sincerely hoped it was a weapon. His FBI friend had gone from irritating, to contemptuous, to dangerously nuts in less than a minute. If this kept up, someone would _have_ to take a mortal shot at him.

Fornell seemed to consider for a moment, and then carefully laid the electric gun on the floor, never loosing his smirk as he kicked the weapon towards Tony. Looking straight at Colonel Carter, he put his hands behind his head and spread his legs.

"_Very well, Tau'ri. Come take me as your prisoner."_

Gibbs set his jaw. The man had just switched from defensive to subdued, yet didn't manage to drop his smug, condescending manner. As the Colonel stepped up to handcuff Fornell, her gun still at the ready, he saw she had the same concern. However, from her position, she couldn't see something that Gibbs just barely caught a glimpse of.

"Careful, Colonel! He's got…"

In what seemed like slow motion, Fornell reached for Carter with his right hand, his left still holding an odd-looking device behind his head. Clutching the metallic object tightly, he pulled the blond towards himself, buckling as she shot him point blank in the gut. Before Gibbs could react however, Tony had jumped from his crouch and run towards the grappling couple.

"TONY!" Kate must have just come to; she'd been unconscious half a minute earlier. In the time Gibbs took to glance at her, however, he heard a loud series of swooshes and knew he missed something big. A bright white light caught the corner of his eye, and when he looked back, he saw a set of great stone rings ascending into the ceiling.

It took him a moment to determine that Tony was gone, no longer in the room. Gone with the bright light, with Colonel Carter, and with Fornell.

In a sudden rage, he turned a one-eighty and pointed his pistol at the man he knew was most likely to give him answers.

"Dr. Jackson, where is my agent?"

* * *

"Sir!" Walter yelled, running into General O'Neill's office. "We've got something! A Goa'uld ship! It's Baal!" 

A loud crash ensued, followed by…

"For cryin' out loud! Why can't anyone just _page_ me!"

* * *

_AAAAHHH/jumps up and down at the angst/ (Is it okay for me to enjoy my own story this much?)  
_

_Well, there you go, everyone! A massive pre-Christmas gift from me to you! And..._

_Now Presenting: Some very long, yet important, author's notes..._

_+Yes, everyone! Following Walter's logic…Pie is the Devil! (Or the devil is pie…take your pick.)_

_+My condolences to anyone who loves rabbits. They kind of became a…recurring theme, and I couldn't help myself. _

_+Okay, there's a scene in the last episode of NCIS season two, where Abby lets Tony sleep on her lab floor. She gives him some sort of…stuffed animal to use as a pillow. It's a pig, or a hog, or something. And it farts when you squeeze it. So, whenever Tony moves his head, it makes a loud, uh, fart-sound. It was a tres humorous scene. However, I knew this particular gas-passing toy had a name, and I couldn't remember it. Couldn't even remember if it was really a hog. So, I turned it into a panther and pretended that's the way it was. So…that's the way it is._

_+I didn't really get to watch NCIS as much as I wanted to last year, and I have absolutely no TV this year, so a LOT of info on these characters were made up. I know mostly…nothing…about FBI Agent Fornell, except for what he looks like, and that he married Gibbs' second wife. (He regretted it later.) Therefore, every personality trait I gave him is completely erroneous. Which is fine. 'Cause he's a Goa'uld._

_+I've never seen _The Exorcist. _Just trailers._

_+I made up the IND. Doesn't exist. _

_+Also, I'm a musician, not a scientist, so please don't take anything I said about C4 or exploding small mammals seriously. Most definitely don't try it at home. I don't even know what C4 really is…except that it makes a really cool, awesome BANG._

_OKAY, everyone! See the button just below? HIT IT AND REVIEW! (I really like reviews…they make me smile. And constructive criticism, well that makes me grin like a gooney for weeks.)_


	4. In The Back Of A Van With Just One Shoe

_Well, finally, here I am updating. I'm sorry it took so long! I was on vacation with my family, and distraction is not a friend of my muses! _

_Thank you all, by the way, for your wonderful reviews. You make me smile._

_

* * *

_

Abby pulled her lips into a pout, their red lipstick contrasting nicely with straight black pigtails, accenting her wide puppy-dog eyes. Inside, she was giddy. This face _always_ worked. She knew this, because even Gibbs had fallen prey to…(dun dun dun)…the _look_.

"C'mon, McGee! Please? You _know_ it'll be fun!" Abby's whisper was barely audible as she kept her eye on the front door of Fornell's house.

"Abby. We're on a stake out."

"You've got to loosen up a little, oh comrade of mine. It will only take a minute!"

McGee sighed, rolled his eyes and attempted to ignore her; he looked intently at his radio, practically willing Gibbs' voice to issue forth an order and save him from his deranged coworker.

"See, Timmy? They don't need us in there at all. Here, I have a quarter."

"I am _not_ playing Strip Coin-Toss with you."

Abby tossed the silver disc anyway, laughing with delight when it landed on heads. "Ha! I won! You have to take something off!"

"You know, for someone who never gets to go on stakeouts, you're amazingly uninterested in being here. We're backup, remember?"

"Well, I didn't realize it would be so boring just standing here by the car. Take off your hat."

"My hat?"

"Your hat. Seriously, McGee. You didn't think we'd be playing for shirts and pants, did you? Take off that hat." She scrunched up her face at him as he huffed and complied. "That's better anyway. That color does absolutely nothing for you." She tossed the coin again.

"I won again! Take off your shoe."

"No."

"McGee. Shoe."

"No."

"Take it off."

"Absolutely not."

"Fine, I'll do it for you." And with that, she reached down grabbed the heel of his shoe and yanked. He barely kept himself from falling.

"Ow! Abby! Give me that back."

"Not yet, my friend. You've still got one shoe left."

As she drew back her hand to toss the coin again, though, she saw something out of the corner of her eye, behind the bushes to the right.

"Shh! McGee, there are people around the corner of the house…over there!" She crouched behind the car's trunk and pointed.

Tim quickly squatted and pulled his gun. He wasn't fast enough, however. By the time he'd located the interlopers, the two NCIS agents were surrounded by at least fifteen black-clad men with guns. And all the barrels were pointed at them.

Slowly, frowning heavily, Tim stood, set his gun on the ground, and raised his hands. Abby, intrigued and suddenly thrilled by this change of events, followed his lead. They were being abducted by military insurgents! Wow, she wished Gibbs had given her a gun.

* * *

Sam grunted as the shot from her pistol forced her back away from Zehuti. She caught barely a glimpse of his warm blood spraying in her face and onto the bookshelf behind him before a set of rings fell from the ceiling, engulfing them both in white light. A sinking feeling suffused her torso. Whatever damage she might have done to the Goa'uld in front of her, he'd succeeded in transporting her to his ship. Hopefully, no one else was home.

It wasn't until the rings had reintegrated her, and her previous momentum continued to throw her backwards, that she realized she hadn't been abducted alone. The person behind her, obviously a man by his weight, fell into her, tumbling them both to the ground. The anxiety of just a few seconds earlier lessened slightly at the thought that either Daniel or Teal'c had managed to come with her.

A familiar haughty laugh dispelled any relief she might have felt, however.

"Colonel Carter, what a pleasure. It seems my unworthy vassal has managed to salvage _something_ from his foolish scheme."

Sam tightened her lips to keep from displaying her momentary fear, a jolt of surprise preventing her from fighting the Jaffa who wrested her from the ship's rough floor. Not until she was standing upright did she comprehend Baal's position; standing tall in triumph, looking her in the eye, he postured with his foot balanced precariously on Zehuti's neck. Zehuti, seeping blood on the floor and wheezing in the throes of Goa'uld pain, blankly stared at his liege, his eyes glowing at half-mast. He was too far gone to feel the terror of his impending death.

Doing her best to yank herself free from her heavy-muscled and armored captor, and unsurprisingly failing miserably, Sam steeled herself and met Baal's gaze. The man smirked, as predicted. He turned his dark eyes to Zehuti beneath him, studied the fool as he gasped for breath, and turned to regard Sam's teammate, who had been seized behind her. She hadn't been able to sneak a peak at who had traveled with here, but it was no matter; both Daniel and Teal'c were capable. With their help, they'd be sure to escape eventually. And, if Jon happened to be a captive of Baal as well, they'd rescue him as well.

It wasn't until Baal's eyes glowed at her companion and his smirk widened that she began to worry. Struggling against her guard, she turned just enough to see the object of Baal's scheming.

"I shall not dispose of him yet." Baal lifted his foot from Zehuti's neck. "He might still be of some use to me."

Sam gasped. The prisoner behind her was Agent DiNozzo. It wasn't Daniel; it wasn't Teal'c. It was DiNozzo – a damn civilian. She felt the gulf in her gut widen apprehensively. There would be no help in this. She was now responsible for freeing not only herself, but a teenage Jack O'Neill and an ignorant, and by the looks of it, terrified, innocent as well. All by herself, no less, unless the General could locate Baal's ship and send a rescue party, which was unlikely. Baal was probably light-years away from Earth's airspace by now, and without the help of either the Tok'ra or the Asgard, the SGC would have no way of tracking their position.

Sam lifted her chin, knowing that if she said anything to Baal, she would aggravate their situation. With ten Jaffa in the ring chamber, the best thing to do was silently take the Goa'uld's taunting and save her strength for an escape effort once they were left alone in their cell.

Unfortunately, DiNozzo did not know this.

"What the hell his going on here? Who are you? How did we get here? What are…" he looked around the room at the Jaffa, struggling against the hands that held him, face white and eyes wide in fear, "they?"

Baal bared a few teeth in amusement. Without raising his voice, he spoke his command. "I am your god, Baal! Kneel before me, _Tau'ri_."

Sam bit back another grunt as the goon behind her kicked her in the back of her right knee, forcing her onto the ground in submission. DiNozzo yelped as both of his knees smacked the golden deck. He seemed, however, to comprehend that further questions might get them both in deeper trouble. For his silence, Sam was grateful.

"That is better. Now," Baal turned his conceited countenance back to Sam, "Colonel Carter. Or should I call you _Samantha_?" His multiphonic chuckle echoed through the silent room as he stepped forward to crouch before her. She crinkled her nose in discomfort; it bothered her that Baal had somehow found the most alluring cologne in the galaxy. "You will be my _guest_, and you will help me find what I am looking for." He ran a fistful of her short hair through his fingers, pausing for a moment in thought. She tried to pull her head away, but a Jaffa behind her pushed his staff weapon into her back in warning.

Baal released her and stood, leaving her to stare stubbornly at his immaculately tailored breeches and polished boots. "Yes," he continued in a half voice, "you'll tell me everything I want to know." He waved his hand as a signal to his soldiers before turning to leave.

Sam threw all her might into struggling against her constraints. This scenario was beginning to sound all too much like a briefing she'd had to endure from the General years earlier. A sudden urge to fight took over.

"We won't tell you anything, Baal! This is a dead end!"

Baal stopped, turned back towards her, and motioned for his men to pause. He thought for a moment. "What is the address to the _chappa'ai_ on the Tau'ri world, Samantha?"

Sam clenched her teeth and refrained from answering. She understood what this was; he knew the address already, but he was proving a point. And because of this, she would have to prove her own point as well. The silence stretched.

"Once again, Samantha. The address?" Baal took a staff weapon from a nearby Jaffa and aimed it at DiNozzo. To his credit, the nearly hysterical agent stood quiet and still. Sam swallowed the bile in her throat.

This time, however, Baal did not follow his silence with another prompt. He merely armed the weapon, smiled with saccharine sadism at Sam, and shot DiNozzo in the leg.

Sam blanched, struggling to keep her face from betraying her fear and her guilt. Baal's message was as loud and clear as DiNozzo's agonized screams: her silence would have harsh consequences.

* * *

In a sudden rage, Gibbs turned a one-eighty and pointed his pistol at the man he knew was most likely to give him answers.

"Dr. Jackson, where is my agent?"

The dark living room resounded with the clicking cacophony of ten P-90s swinging in Gibbs' direction. In addition to Dr. Jackson and Murray, there were several marines and Air Force personnel crammed in the house, their attention now fully resting on him.

_Good_, thought Gibbs. _I want their attention_.

"Agent Gibbs," Daniel began as he put down his weapon and raised his hands in the universal sign of _I-won't-hurt-you-just-listen-to-me_, "Put down your gun."

Gibbs did not lower his arm. Instead, he took off the safety, hearing with satisfaction the telltale echo of ten soldiers doing the same. "Hold your fire!" Jackson called to the officers, waving his hand slightly to pacify them.

"My agent, Dr. Jackson. Where is he? And what the hell just happened here?" Gibbs' voice was clipped and sharp, demanding a succinct answer. Murray changed the subject, however, before Jackson could provide one.

"Agent Todd, you must put down the zat'nika'tel. I do not believe you know how it operates." There was a short hiss and a click, and Gibbs smirked. _That's my girl._ He assumed Kate had it trained on Murray, whom she was already covering with her pistol.

Sensing Gibbs' resolve, the good doctor decided to try his charm on Kate, instead. "Ahh, he's telling the truth, Agent Todd. If you don't know how it works, you could kill someone without meaning to." He paused. "I'm assuming that's _not_ your intention."

"Our intention is to get some answers, Doctor," Gibbs barked, "not the bullshit about national security you used on us last time."

Dr. Jackson had the grace to look sheepish at that comment, taking a moment to come to a decision.

"It _is_ a matter of national security, _but_," he added, as Kate swung her new laser gun towards him and kept her pistol on Murray, "there's a possibility we can give you the answers you want. You just have to let me call my superiors." When Gibbs still didn't lower his gun, Jackson continued quickly. "It's more than likely he'll give us clearance to bring you to the base and debrief you, but I need to call him now. For Agent DiNozzo's sake, I need to call him _now_."

Gibbs considered for a second, and then lowered his weapon. Before it had even reached his side, two marines hurried forward to relieve him of the pistol and place his wrists in handcuffs. Gibbs didn't resist, and Kate, with a blank expression on her face, followed his lead. "You didn't say anything about cuffing us, Doctor Jackson."

Because Dr. Jackson was already talking into his cell, Murray stepped forward to answer. "Is this not the proper course of action after having de-armed an unreasonable opponent, Agent Todd?"

* * *

In the back of a non-descript, yet highly fortified van, Agents Gibbs, Todd, McGee and Sciuto found themselves disarmed, silently under the guard of two hard-looking Marines.

McGee had only one shoe.

* * *

_Well, there it is! Not as fun as last time, but the subject matter warranted a little more seriousness. I do hope you enjoyed it._

_One quick note: I was informed by a kind reader (thank you, Mris!) that the NCIS headquarters was in Washington DC, not Florida. Okay, I just have to claim ignorance and late-night, online researching as a defense. That was a completely un-cool mistake on my part._

_And, does anyone know how to spell _chappa'ai?_ Is that correct? _

_Happy trails, everyone!_

_PS – Please review! Revue, s'il vous plait! Bitte Zusammenfassung! Por favor revisão! Пожалуйста просмотрение! __Gelieve te herzien! __검토__! Por favor revision!_


	5. If I Only Had A Pen

The personnel files General O'Neill had asked him to find sat dejectedly on the corner of the briefing room desk, not quite forgotten, but definitely not a priority. Walter had one mission until Dr. Jackson returned, and one mission only: to guard the door to the General's office from intruders. Granted, this was a self-imposed assignment, but as O'Neill's Personal Assistant, the Sergeant regarded it as his most important duty; the files could wait. A terrible thing had happened today, and the General deserved a few minutes to himself.

"Ah, ah, Dr. Felger. The General is busy right now. You'll have to make an appointment." That was close; he'd been so caught up in his thoughts, reworking the SGC side of O'Neill's latest telephone conversation with Dr. Jackson in his head, that the enthusiastic and overly geeky scientist almost slipped past him.

Felger dropped his hands, and consequently his paperwork, to his sides, slouching and putting on a very pathetic, pleading face. "Aw, come _on_ Harriman! This is important! This could be life or death!"

"It's _Sergeant_ Harriman to you, Felger, and I doubt it's that critical."

"Yes, _it is!_"

"No, it's _not_."

"No, seriously! See, I was talking with Chloe, we were putting together this honkin' huge gyro-particular ossiferal degenerator," he lifted his arms again and started to gesticulate, "SG-8 found on P9F-445, and she said to me, she said, 'You're putting it on backwards, the 'm'-looking squiggle goes up!' So, we put it on that way, and it worked! It worked! So, you see, I have to…"

"No. Absolutely not. The General is busy." After hearing _that_ explanation, Walter was doubly sure his plan was a good one. Felger would have been bodily tossed from O'Neill's office with a presentation like that. And what _was_ a gyro-pacific oceanic de-hoozi-whatsit, anyway?

Felger dropped his puppy-dog grin and gave up, shooting the officer an annoyed glance. "Okay, fine, _Sergeant_. When _can_ I see him?"

Walter, pretending this was a normal and pleasant situation, picked up the General's scheduling book and started flipping through the pages. "Hummmm, no. Nope. Nah….Not there, either. Oh!" He looked up and smiled in an overly accommodating way, "How about next Thursday at 1520? He's got a meeting with Colonel Davis that day at 1530, but I'm sure he can fit you in just before."

"That's it? _Ten-minutes?_ That's all we get for a breakthrough as monumental as this?" He folded his papers irritably, "Okay, we'll take it."

Moving to jot down the appointment, Walter realized he didn't have a pen. That was odd; he wondered where his had run off to. "Do you have a pen, Felger?"

"That's _Doctor_ Felger to you, _Sergeant_," the man answered, handing over the black _RollerBall_ he had stashed behind his ear.

Walter scribbled quickly in the notebook, nodding to Felger that it was all taken care of. By the time he looked up, the scientist was gone, mumbling something about "Chloe being right," or something. The sergeant smiled. O'Neill had no idea how much he owed him. Someday, he'd have to collect.

* * *

"They're holding us prisoner, Gibbs! Tell me this isn't illegal!"

Looking around the gray room, decorated with only a few dark plastic chairs and a blinking florescent light, Gibbs stood and turned to lean against the wall by the door. Outside, two airmen with dangerous-looking rifles stood guard.

"We're not prisoners, Kate. We're being 'detained.' Right, Boss?" McGee was sitting in a chair next to Abby, who was cross-legged on the floor on the other side of the cell.

Gibbs grimaced. It made no difference whether they were prisoners or whether they were simply being detained; their purpose was the same either way: find out what was going on here, and get Tony back.

Kate was obviously preoccupied with the same thing. Randomly pacing, pausing, and moving to glare out of the small window in the door, her face was oddly contorted with worry. He could understand why the chain of events would produce her anxiety – it wasn't everyday they saw teammates disappear with a flash of light – but he sensed it was something deeper than that. And, under the circumstances, he couldn't allow his agent to make decisions based on deeper…feelings.

She confirmed his suspicions by letting loose a frustrated huff and kicking the base of the wall.

"Sit down, Agent Todd."

"Gibbs, I don't know how you're taking this so well, but they've done something with Tony, and they've got us locked up so we can't do anything about it. We have to…"

"Sit down." Gibbs grabbed Kate by the shoulders, backed her up, and firmly pressed her into a chair. Squatting in front of her, while Abby and Tim exchanged not-so-subtle glances, he regarded her sternly.

"First thing's first, Kate. I didn't want to have to bring this up, but you give me no choice. If your anxiety for Agent DiNozzo is going to impair your ability to think clearly and make logical decisions on this mission, I need to know now."

Gibbs heard Abby take in a surprised breath, and knew without doubt that McGee's jaw had dropped. He had never discussed personal issues with his team, and certainly never in front of the other members. He had never needed to, before now.

Kate looked shocked for a moment as well, and then blinked. She seemed to grasp just what Gibbs was saying and what her behavior signified. In typical Kate-like fashion, she steeled herself and attempted to rectify the situation, to prove she was not a risk.

"Of course not, Gibbs. I'm fine; I'm just ready to get out of here and get Agent DiNozzo back, sir."

Regarding his senior officer for a moment, he came to a decision. Whether or not Kate was struggling emotionally with recent events, he would trust the agent in her to stay focused. That's what all this was about. He trusted her to keep a cool head, and she trusted him to find and rescue Tony. Gibbs and Todd stared at each other, their silent communication settling the issue as tension built upon their uncomprehending audience.

McGee cleared his throat.

"Good." Gibbs answered suddenly as he stood and walked to the door Kate had vacated, giving the woman time to continue to press him for action, though in a less-anxious way, of course.

"So you're not going to_ do_ something about this? We're just going to sit here and do nothing?"

"We _did_ do something, Kate. We're on this base, somewhere we wouldn't have been unless we pulled that stunt back there at Fornell's house. We _are_ government agents; they can't keep us here forever. They've got to pull us into this sometime. And until then, I doubt anything we say to those flyboys out there," he nodded his head toward the door to indicate their guards on the other side, "will get us very far."

"You know," Abby started, the scrunched-up look on her face indicating that her brain was in high gear, "if I had a pen, I could get us out of here."

Kate scoffed. "Yeah, and then what, Abs? Our _prison_ guards," she emphasized that word with a glance towards her boss, "have guns."

"Oh, if I had a pen, Kate," Gibbs commented quietly, "they wouldn't be a problem."

* * *

_Hi, guys! Okay, I know this took a long time, and I apologize. I'm probably just going to have to post in shorter chapters in the future. Still, you'll eventually get the whole story..._

_ And yes, the "pen" theme was pretty lame, wasn't it?_

_ READ, REVIEW, and ROCK! _  



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